The corridors of King Thuragon’s palace were eerily quiet this late at night as Derreck was led through a series of winding halls, lit only by the dim glow of torches. His escort, a young servant with nervous eyes, moved quickly and quietly, stopping before an ancient-looking wooden door reinforced with iron bands. The servant gave Derreck a quick, nervous glance, gesturing for him to enter.

  “The Kings are waiting my lord,” he whispered before quickly disappearing down the corridor.

  Derreck took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Beyond was a large chamber with a vaulted ceiling, its stone walls adorned with tapestries of battles and the sigils of the many noble houses of Virinja. At the center of the room stood a circular table, around which sat the most powerful rulers of the peninsula: King Thuragon of Holforth and the other kings many of them old and grey their titles were as old as the stones beneath their feet. They all turned their eyes to Derreck as he entered.

  King Thuragon, a towering man with a broad chest and silver-streaked beard who’s body still possessed a hardness from years of battle first as a mercenary then as a barbarian king who rose up to make his kingdom the largest and most powerful in the peninsula first with war then with alliances and pacts of peace that saw a two generations without war in all the kingdoms of Varinja. The king rose from his seat. His eyes, stern but warm, regarded Derreck with a mixture of respect and curiosity.

  “Lord Derreck of Atalantha,” Thuragon greeted him, his voice deep and authoritative. “I’m sorry for the late hour but we’ve called you here to discuss matters that cannot be spoken of in the light of day.”

  Derreck gave a respectful nod, stepping forward. He could sense the weight of the moment, the air thick with tension. The Kings of Virinja were not accustomed to secrecy, but Zion’s invasion and the looming war had changed everything. Derreck knew this meeting was far more than a mere council of strategy.

  King Balric of Theris, a grizzled veteran of many wars, leaned forward, his weathered face showing lines of wear and battle fatigue. “We saw how you delt with your opponent in the arena today,” he said bluntly. “Your skill… it’s unlike anything we’ve ever seen even those zealots of Zion with their bewitched fighting style couldn’t stand against you. That man Rupert threw at you was a beast, a killing machine only kept alive to kill for his masters, yet you dispatched him with your bare hands.”

  King Randar, regal and sharp-eyed, added, “Tell us, lord Derreck, is this some divine gift? A blessing from the gods? Or is it something… more human?”

  The room fell silent as the council awaited his answer. Derreck glanced at their faces, seeing a mixture of awe and fear. His fighting style, honed through years of discipline and training in multiple arts that he cherry picked movements and strategies from to suit him best, was unlike the standard sword-and-shield tactics of the knights schools they were accustomed to and certainly not the brutality of Lopping which was the hand fighting style the peninsula was used to, consisting mostly of wide swinging roundhouse punches and crude blocks that sometimes did as much harm to the defender as it did to the attacker. His style was something else entirely—something the rulers of Virinja didn’t fully understand but had seen something like before in the armies of Zion where every soldier fights this way from the lowliest squire to the commanders of their forces, all of them well versed in these fighting arts.

  Derreck cleared his throat. “though the gods did bless me with divine gifts, Your Majesties. The skills I use are not granted by any god, they are the result of years of training and discipline. In my homeland of Atalantha, masters of these arts have developed techniques that focus on using one’s body as a weapon—striking, grappling, and incapacitating opponents with precision and efficiency. What you saw today was not a miracle, just training, and while my blessings played a part in my opponent’s defeat I believe even without them the result would be the same.”

  The council members exchanged glances, absorbing his words. There was a palpable sense of relief but also concern.

  “Then,” King Thuragon began, his tone cautious, “this is something that can be taught? To our armies? Can they learn to fight as you and your Knights do?”

  Derreck hesitated, knowing the truth would be disappointing. “Yes and no, Your Majesty. It takes years—sometimes decades—to master some of these techniques to the level you saw today. Most soldiers would not have the time or the patience to achieve that level of skill.”

  A collective sigh seemed to ripple through the room, a wave of disappointment. The kings, faced with the daunting task of stopping Zion’s forces, had hoped for a miracle—a way to level the playing field against an enemy that seemed almost invincible so far the way they took the nation of Drezil in a single day was shocking and the tales of the survivors were more so, how the moved as if the were one each man having a different purpose but all related to the actions of the group, and how each of them fought in a strange style of combat that rivaled even the magic weapons of the famed knights of Drezil.

  But then, Derreck sensing their disappointment continued, “However, not all hope is lost. While mastery takes years, there are many basic techniques can be taught quickly and used quite effectively. Soldiers from my homeland have learned to use these methods of defense and hand-to-hand combat as a collective so each man works together giving them a significant advantage on the battlefield. It won’t make them unbeatable, but it will give them all the tools to survive and combat even seasoned fighters.”

  The council visibly brightened at his words. King Balric nodded thoughtfully. “Zion’s forces have proven to be ferocious, but if we can give our men something to even the odds, it will make all the difference.”

  King Thuragon’s expression softened, and he gave Derreck a nod of gratitude. “You’ve given us hope this night, Lord Derreck. That is more than we expected before today.”

  The conversation shifted as the kings began to discuss plans for integrating Derreck’s techniques into their training regimens by having smaller regiments learn the techniques and train other regiments spreading the knowledge quickly, but Thuragon remained silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on Derreck. Finally, the king spoke again, his voice quieter, more contemplative.

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  “After witnessing your actions here I have seen much about what kind of man you are, you prefer to lead your men not follow from the back like most of these young lord today, and you carefully show your enemy only what you must, you could have defeated that man with ease at any time but you chose to see the full measure of our strength before acting being careful not to show us all your tricks which is also good. But after speaking with my daughter, Lady Amelia, I’ve learned much more about you than just your skill in battle.” Thuragon’s eyes were searching, probing, as if trying to fully understand the intentions of the man standing before him. “She speaks of you with great admiration and affection I would say. You’ve done more than simply fight for glory; you’ve shown mercy, kindness, and a willingness to do what no other knight in all of Varinja would for the good of not just your people but for all people.”

  Derreck shifted uneasily under the king’s gaze, unsure of where the conversation was leading. Thuragon’s words carried a weight beyond simple praise.

  “Amazing tales of bravery and triumph like your defeat of the orc warlords with nothing but a dagger and fighting off a horde single handed, I could not believe at first these tales of this knight of Atalantha, kissed by the goddess of mercy in mortal form, a man who makes knights of orcs and peasants who fight more fiercely than a pack of dire wolves, protects those without even a home to call fealty to and gives away the spoils of his hard fought victories to those in need simply because it is the right thing. All of it sounds impossible but knowing Amelia her word is without question so what now must I make of this knight without peerage,” Thuragon continued. “These are the actions of a man who values something greater than power or riches. When I was but a boy in the free armies of the northern steppes we herd tales of Atalantha where knights were men of deeds not words, and we tried in our youth as mercenaries in the free kingdoms to embody that to the point that when I served the tyrant king Morsaris and learned of his misdeeds against the people of Holforth I confronted him not for me but in defense of the men in my command, men of his country fighting under his flag, in the end I did slay him for his crimes, not for the crown but for the greater good of the land. It was only later that I was crowned king by the lords of this land, probably because the people would have rebelled if it was not the slayer of Morsaris the bringer of freedom leading them.”

  The other kings had quieted, their attention now focused solely on the conversation between Derreck and King Thuragon.

  “I have now been king these 35 years,” Thuragon said, his voice low and serious. “and I have made Holforth the strongest kingdom in all of Virinja, and it must remain strong if we are to stand against Zion and whatever heresy they have planned for us. But strength alone is not enough. We need allies we can trust—men of honor and principle who will do what is needed not just what will increase their holdings. Men like you. An alliance with men like these knights of Atalantha is the only way to bring us victory in this war and the challenges that will come next. And as we all know well, these alliances are forged not just in battle, but in blood.”

  Derreck’s heart began to race as he realized what Thuragon was leading to.

  “I must secure your loyalty, Derreck of Atalantha,” Thuragon said. “And there is only one way to do that. I ask —no, I offer you—my daughter’s hand in marriage. Lady Amelia is quite taken with you and as I am told she has already pledged herself to you and will not relinquish that vow. I have come to believe that with you by her side, my kingdom will remain strong. Together, you will rule Holforth, and I will know that my legacy is in safe hands.”

  The room went silent. The offer hung in the air like a heavy cloud, its implications far-reaching. Marriage to Lady Amelia would make him the heir to the throne of the most powerful kingdom in Virinja a prize many a man had tried to achieve in the past only to be rejected by Thuragon’s shrewd negotiating skills as well as his daughter’s unapparelled beauty.

  Derreck’s mind raced. He had never expected this. The truth was he had fallen in love with her long before he knew her, back when he wrote his novel. The one detail he had tried to change over and over was her impending death which he could never stop. At the end of the war he wrote Darien going back to the beginning of the war in some vain attempt to save her but he wrote himself into a corner and had to have him go back again to fix it but again the words flowed out almost automatically without his conscious thought causing her death. In the end he couldn’t keep writing it over and over and ended the novel with Darein cursing the gods for not letting him save her just to save everything else and he chose to let the world destroy itself. And yet, now, here she was being offered to him as a way to cement his place in the kingdom’s future. But with that offer came the weight of responsibility—responsibility for Amelia’s life, for Holforth, for the war that loomed on the horizon that may have him choose between them.

  “I…” Derreck began, struggling to find the words. “My lord, I cannot accept. Lady Amelia is… a wonderful woman and of course I would be honored to have her in my life and I feel as though I have grown deep feelings for her, but…”

  King Thuragon’s expression hardened slightly, but he allowed Derreck to speak.

  “But if the gods chose me to stop Zion, it’s because I’ve seen visions of this war. I know much of what’s to come, and I fear that if Amelia follows me into this war, she will die. I don’t know if I could stop that even with several lives to see it through but I also know I can’t bear to see it—or to lose her.”

  A soft, feminine voice interrupted the tense silence. “I think I should have something to say about how I die, Derreck.”

  All eyes turned to the doorway, where Lady Amelia stood, her arms crossed, her face a mixture of frustration and affection. She stepped forward, her boots echoing softly against the stone floor.

  “If Zion comes, I will answer the call of my people,” she said firmly. “I will fight, with or without you by my side. That is my duty as a soldier of Holforth. But I know now that the safest place for me is by your side. I’ve pledged myself to you as a knight and as a woman, and I will not go back on that now.”

  Derreck stood frozen, unsure how to respond. His heart swelled with emotions he hadn’t expected to feel, and for a moment, he was lost for words. Amelia stepped closer, her eyes locking onto his with a fierce determination.

  “All I needed to hear,” she whispered, “was that you would be happy to have me in your life because you have grown deep feelings for me. And that’s all I could have ever wanted.”

  Before he could reply, Amelia closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around him in a fierce embrace, she didn’t need the words just knowing he loved her was enough. Derreck, stunned but overwhelmed with a sense of relief, he returned the hug as the small crowd in the room began to clap softly, the moment of tension dissipating.

  King Thuragon, his stern demeanor softened by the sight of his daughter’s happiness, nodded approvingly. “Then it is settled,” he said. “You will marry, and together, you will lead Holforth to victory.”

  As the applause faded, the real business of the council resumed. The kings gathered around the table, and the mood shifted from celebration to determination. Maps were unfurled, and strategies were discussed. The war against Zion was far from over, and now that Derreck was tied to the fate of Holforth as well as his store in the wilderness, but he also knew of all the battles ahead there were events that never wavered in each regression and those would be what he would now have to prepare for next. They would test everything he had ever known about Varinja.

  But for now, as Amelia stood by his side, he felt ready to face whatever came next.